Unexplainable
by homesweethomicide13
Summary: He didn't know how it had happened; but he did know that he was glad it had. Barda/Glock


**Title:** Unexplainable  
**Author:** homesweethomicide13  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairing:** Barda/Glock, one-sided Jarda.  
**Warning:** Slash  
**Disclaimer:** I wish  
**Summary:** He didn't know how it had happened; but he did know that he was glad it had. Barda/Glock

**Unexplainable**

All Barda had wanted to do was relax with a glass of neat whiskey in some dark corner of the tavern, preferably alone. In fact, that was how the evening had started out – he'd left his office down in 'Guards Corner', lifting a hand in response to the various calls of 'good evening, sir', and had chosen a path through the palace that would inevitably keep him from running into one of his friends. It wasn't that he didn't want to see them; he was just tired and needed some space. So he'd headed down into the city, and walked through the backstreets to get to a tavern he knew well. Stepping up to the bar, he waited for the barmaid to finish with another customer, and ran a hand through his untidy hair. Yes, a glass or two (or three) of whiskey, and then he'd retire for the night.

"You are starting to look your age, palace boy." His whole body tensed up at the voice of a man he'd been doing his best to avoid ever since they'd first come into contact. Lifting his head, he turned in the direction of the voice, and tried not to grimace. Glock, as wild-looking as ever, was sat at the bar, a mug of ale in one hand. He was smirking a little as he stared at Barda, and the palace guard was beginning to wish he'd picked another tavern.

"You always look your age, Jalis boy." He responded irritably. He glanced at the barmaid desperately, hoping she was finished with the other customer so she could serve him, and he could get away from Glock as soon as possible.

"Ouch." Glock muttered, taking a long swig of ale. "That was rather uncalled for." He was grinning now, and Barda didn't like it. It usually meant he was up to something – and that something was usually bad. "Being in charge too much for you?"

"Not that it is any of your concern, but I am managing fine, thank you." He growled, inching away from him. Of course, this was a popular tavern, and space along the bar was very limited. Barda couldn't get any further away from Glock without effectively sitting on the woman next to him – and as much as her attire suggested she wouldn't mind at all, it wasn't something he was particularly interested in doing. He smiled in relief when the barmaid sauntered in his direction, a bright smile on her face. She leant on the bar towards him.

"Well if it is not my dear friend, Barda." She winked playfully. "I have not seen you in here for a while."

"I have been rather busy, unfortunately." He smiled at her, glad of the distraction from Glock. "Can I trouble you for my usual?" She grinned.

"No trouble for you, sweetheart." She laughed, turning away from the bar to fill a glass with whiskey. Barda relaxed a little, temporarily forgetting about the man loitering beside him, one eyebrow raised at the interaction between palace guard and barmaid. When she handed him the glass, he handed over a few coins – and Glock knew the pricing well enough in this tavern to know that Barda had given her a couple too many. He felt it was typical of a palace-raised man to give a little extra to a pretty lady.

Barda accepted the drink with a fond smile, and waited until she'd wandered off to serve someone else before knocking it back, downing the contents nearly in one. He had intended to take his time and relax, but Glock's appearance had changed his plans. Now he was going to get out as soon as possible.

"I thought you were supposed to sip whiskey." Glock commented, forcing Barda to acknowledge his presence again. "Or are you in some sort of hurry?" Glock had finished his ale now, and was signalling the barmaid in order to get a refill. Barda rolled his eyes and finished off the rest of his drink.

"I, unlike you, have better things to do than hang around in taverns all night." It was a lie, of course. He had nothing else to do, having finished up all the paperwork earlier so that he could have the rest of the evening off. The barmaid returned to their section of the bar, and smiled brightly at Glock.

"Another mug of ale, honey." Glock grinned. "And get this boy a refill on his whiskey, would you?" Barda, who had been about to make his escape, stopped and stared at Glock as if he'd grown an extra head. He didn't know what he was more surprised at – the fact that Glock was buying him a drink, or the fact that he had indeed just referred to him as 'boy'. He knew he was younger than the Jalis, but it couldn't have been by more than a year or so at most. Even Doom, who was a confirmed four years older than him, did not even suggest he was young enough to be classed as 'boy' in his mind. Glock caught the look Barda was giving him. "What? You need to relax. I can practically feel how tense you are." He handed over the correct money when the barmaid set down a fresh mug of ale and another glass of whiskey.

Glock picked up his mug and took a swig of ale. He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, and then glanced at Barda, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Barda was torn between downing the drink and making a run for it, and actually taking a seat and enjoying the drink, with the risk of having to make conversation with the Jalis. It was a split second decision – and for some reason he didn't know of at the time, he found himself taking a seat. He picked up the glass and sipped the whiskey, smiling a little as it burned its way down his throat. He felt eyes upon him, and turned to raise an eyebrow at Glock.

"Something you wanted, Jalis boy?"

"Do you have a problem with me, Barda? You always seem on edge around me." He smirked. "I do not bite, you know." He leant in a little closer, a strange grin on his face. "Not unless you ask me to." Barda leant back a little, eyebrows creasing into a concerned frown.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. Glock eased back and shrugged.

"Whatever you want it to, palace boy." He picked up his mug of ale again, and turned his attention towards his drink, leaving a rather bewildered Barda to stare at him, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Deciding he was far too sober to be dealing with Glock's strange behaviour, Barda picked up his glass, and swallowed several mouthfuls of whiskey. They both fell into a calm silence, the noise of the tavern around them blending into the background. "I hear you are having trouble working out what to do about the slaves in the Shadowlands." Barda glanced at Glock, surprised at the softer tone to the man's voice.

"It is a tricky situation, yes." He replied quietly. "We cannot leave them. There is no question about that." He sipped his drink. "But what _can_ we do? We have no weapon to combat the Shadow Lord, not in the Shadowlands. The Belt cannot be taken beyond Deltora's borders."

"Many of the slaves will be Jalis." Glock muttered. "Those who did not die fighting were taken."

"There is nothing we can do as of yet." Barda said, firmly. But he put a hand on Glock's shoulder, forcing the Jalis to look at him. "The Jalis are strong. When we free the slaves – and we will – I am sure they will be standing tall. It takes more than sorcery to bring you lot down, am I right?" Glock smiled a little.

"At times like this, I do wonder why the Jalis and the people of Del did not get along before the time of Adin. We seem to understand each other pretty well." Barda smirked.

"Perhaps we do. Or perhaps it is only because you and I are both soldiers." He shrugged. "Whatever the reason, it would not have stopped the territorial wars from before the time of Adin. Neighbouring tribes are almost destined to fight, it would seem." He focused on his drink again, hoping Glock would move on. This was far too much like a proper conversation for Barda's liking.

"You really do not like me, do you?" Glock actually laughed. "I have done nothing to you, and yet you would much rather be somewhere else than sat right here, talking to me."

"It is not a question of whether I like you or not, Glock. I had intended to spend the evening alone, that is all."

"I am sure if I were Doom, you would not be so eager to get away." Glock murmured into his mug, before downing the contents. Barda almost dropped his glass in surprise, and turned to stare at Glock.

"What?" He growled. Glock set his empty mug down and simply raised an eyebrow at Barda.

"I may be a Jalis warrior, and you might think that all I care about is violence and bloodshed, but I am not stupid, nor am I blind." He leant in close again, lowering his voice so no one around them would be able to hear him. "You want him." Barda knew he was turning red, but he couldn't stop it from happening. "He will never look twice at you, Barda. He was a happily married man, and he has a daughter from that marriage. He will never love another, no matter how much you wish he would."

"I do not know what you are talking about." Barda quickly finished his drink and stood up, turning to leave. Glock caught his wrist sharply.

"Do not run from the truth, Barda. You will only get hurt." Barda wrenched his arm out of Glock's grasp and glared at him.

"What does it matter to you? Why do you even care?" Without waiting for an answer, Barda strode out of the tavern and into the cool night air. He walked around to the side of the tavern, into the alley that led to the backstreets. He fell back against the wall and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. He hated to admit it, but Glock was right.

He'd been hiding himself away in his office for the past week, pretending to have a lot of work to do, when really he was trying to avoid being around Doom. He hadn't noticed at first, but he'd been smiling a lot more around the older man, had enjoyed his company much more than he used to. When Doom smiled, Barda smiled. When Doom was hurt, Barda hated it. When Doom was angry, Barda wanted to find the person who'd pissed him off and punish them for it. Finally, he'd worked out what was going on, and it had terrified him.

He was a man, therefore he was supposed to fall in love with a woman, marry her, and have a family with her. He wasn't supposed to fall for another man. What would his mother think of him? It was wrong. It wasn't… natural. Yet… it felt so normal. Of course, he knew Glock was telling him the truth – whatever he was feeling for Doom, it would never be returned. The man was still mourning the loss of his wife, even though he had forgotten everything about his past for who knows how many years. He would always love Anna, right until his own death. There would never be a space in his heart for someone else, let alone another man.

"You do not have to hide from me, Barda." His eyes snapped open, and found the figure of Glock leaning against the wall at the entrance of the alley. The man strode over and stood directly in front of him, hands in the pockets of his torn trousers. Barda went to dismiss the comment, but stopped before the words came out. Instead, he sighed again, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"Am I that obvious?" He muttered, staring down at the ground.

"Not at all. I am just observant." Glock watched the palace guard for a moment. The normally hard-to-read Barda was like an open book right now, a sure sign that he was lost and confused, and very vulnerable. To his surprise, Glock realised that he wanted nothing more than to protect him. "It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"It is wrong." Barda growled, sounding angry – but Glock knew it wasn't directed at him. Barda was only angry with himself. Glock frowned, and stepped forward until he was right in Barda's personal space. Barda looked up, and frowned in confusion. "Glock, what are you-," his voice cut off when Glock grabbed one wrist and pinned him to the wall, stepping even closer so their bodies were pressed together.

"Wrong?" Glock murmured, staring straight into Barda's eyes. "Tell me, Barda… does this feel wrong to you?" His free hand ghosted down Barda's side, and found a firm grip on his hip. Barda looked nervous, and a little uncomfortable, but he made no move to get away. "What about this?" Glock leant in, tilting his head to one side. His lips found Barda's neck in a soft but surprisingly sensual kiss. Barda tensed against him, head turning to one side. Glock pulled back a little so he could see his face, and smiled at the faint blush that had spread across Barda's cheeks. His eyes were closed tightly and he was frowning a little, and he could tell from the set of his jaw that his teeth were clenched together.

Not releasing his hold of Barda's wrist, Glock tugged at Barda's shirt until it came loose from his trousers, and then his hand slipped up under it, finding warm, smooth skin. One knee pushed between Barda's legs, and he let go of Barda's wrist, only to capture his hand in his own, lacing their fingers together.

"How can something be wrong when it feels so right?" He murmured quietly, gently biting along Barda's jaw. Glock was starting to get a little worried when Barda still didn't react, but then his head turned, and his eyes opened. All of his worries were washed away when he recognised the lust-filled glaze over those deep, blue eyes. Licking his lips, Glock stroked his thumb over Barda's hip in a surprisingly gentle gesture. "Doom might not ever love you, Barda." He whispered, keeping his eyes locked with Barda's. "But I might."

"Glock?" Barda muttered, barely audible.

"Hm?"

"Be quiet, and kiss me." Glock couldn't help but grin at the command. Even whilst pinned to a wall by another man, quite literally at his mercy, Barda maintained his sense of control.

"Yes, sir." Glock murmured, closing the gap between them. The kiss was rough, a little desperate, but heavy with meaning. Barda's free hand came up, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of Glock's neck, grasping tightly, even tugging a little. Their lips parted, reconnected, parted again. They were both breathless, gasping slightly, as they pulled away. "Come on, palace boy. You need to really relax." Glock stepped back, releasing Barda as he did so. He began to walk down the alley, and then stopped, turning to look back at him. With a smile on his face, Glock held out his hand. "Coming?"

Barda only hesitated for a moment before he pushed away from the wall and took Glock's hand.

Later, when he lay against Glock's chest, the Jalis sleeping peacefully beneath him, he'd wonder how it ever got to this. He'd never known that the tension he'd felt between himself and Glock was actually sexual tension, but after Glock had shown him exactly how he intended to 'relax' him, everything had been made clear.

He didn't know how it had happened; but he did know that he was glad it had.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**_ Glock's probably really OOC, but it's actually my first time attempting to write him in anything. So this wasn't totally how I expected it to turn out (it was originally going to be a very subtle pairing), but the words kept coming and this was the result, and I actually like it - even if it did seem sort of rape-ish when Glock was pinning him to the wall... Ah well. It all worked out in the end. Hate comments will only inspire me to write more slash, so don't bother! -homesweethomicide13_


End file.
